The Washington critic., 1887-02-19

they are, and 1t would i'll become me to
inquire. But here he comes"
IL was late, even for Paris, that night
ere Wilhelm babe his kind hearted
friend adieu at the corner of the Rue dc
Ia D, and hurried away 10 his dingy
room.
Yet that evening had been big with
Wilhelm's fate. He had supped with
M. Albano at charming little hotel.
and, with true politeness, Monsieur had
said little or nothing about himself, but
had led the young man TO speak OF all
his hopes and ambitions. 4
Wilhelm's great scheme was con.
nected with electricity, not only for the
purpose of lighting cities aud country
houses, but as the moving power of
the future; and NJ. Albano knew enough
about chemistry speedily to discern
that, III properly worked out, these
plans of Wilhelm's might lead him to
fame and fortune.
you will come to England with me,
Wilhelm? have saved little sum;
will pay your expenses"
"No, friend, no; TO England ] will
come, but everything l will pay my.
self. Two more months will work,
and then"
"You will come ?"
"Yes."
"And be my guest for few weeks
at my little cottage home 2"
"Well-Yes."
So the two parted.
Winter was still holding sway, and
snow. lay deep all around Paris; but
In nine weeks time what a change
there was With Paris, however, this
short and Simple story has no longer
anything TO do. The scene shifts TO a
tiny but beautiful cottage in Surrey. 1t
stands on the slope of gently rising
hill, and is almost buried In pine
woods.
"Yes, Wilhelm, NJ. Albano was say
ing. as the two sat together in little
tent on the lawn, "thts cottage, these
gardens, the beautiful country around,
do not seem the same since Marie
since my daughter left me. They are
not the same, for am older now. I
cannot see with the same eyes, hear
with the same ears; 1t seems as If the
gloom of the grave was already closing
around me.
But Marie-your daughler-may
retuIn."
mo, that cannot be, the pride that
caused her to go will prevent her re.
turning. She will never come back"
Wilhelm was silent.
"a few hasty words-and the words
were mine-a few peevish mutterings
at the fate that banished me from my
native land, that had torn from my
breast the insignia of title and honor,
and compelled meme, n count-to
drag out a wretched existence In for.
eign country, by aid of my violin. l
did not mean to imply that bcgrudgcd
the labor that kept her as lady, but l
fear l led her TO believe so and |
would have laid down my life next
minute to have been able TO retract, to
unsay my cruel words; but next minute
Marie was gone. Gone-ycs, gone with
tears on her face, and mayhap break.
ing heart, though proud one. And
since then have sought and obtained
engagements in almost every capital In
Europe. have been till now ever on
the move, thinking, always thinking.
would find my Marie for one
brief notc-the only one / received
told me she was so far indc-
pendent, and that on her voice alone
she would now trust for n livelihood.
But i am tired, hopeless and weary"
And so indeed he looked.
A year passed away. The old man
Hope itself had fled from his heart,
and he mourned for his daughter as
for one dead.
Wilhelm was frequent visitor at
the cottage. Aided In his ambition by
the eX.count, and possessed of the will
| TO work, the determination to triumph,
and that mental staying power which
oftentimes leads to success without
even the aid of genius, the young man
conquered all difficulties. and was al.
ready on the first step of the ladder
that leads to fame.
His employment frequently led him
to Italy and TO that Rome which of late
years appears to have taken new
lease of glorious life.
An event now took place which is
common enough In the life of most
young men: Wilhelm fell in love.
But do not blame him. for all Rome
was captivated by the sweet voice and
most charming manner of young
singer that had lately been brought out
by n great master.
Night after night, wherever she sang.
Wilhelm was there, listening en-
thralled. But he could obtain no In
PRODUCTION, She was so near and yet
so far.
Going home one night from duties
that had occupied him for nearly eight
and.forty hours, with little time for
sleep, he heard the startling shout of
| fire. lie followed the mob and the
rafting, i'll contrived engine down u
narrow, dark street that, from the
showers of sparks and the smoke and
heat, seemed on fire from end to end.
Wilhelm got close to the burning
building and helped TO work the en-.
gine. But there was soon other and
Drawer work for him to tackle. For,
look the faces OF young people and
children frantic with fear appear at an
upper window. Who will climb through
| sparks and smoke UP that rickety lad
der2 Who will volunteer to save
them? Wilhelm will He springs
toward it; up and down, and up and
down, and he has saved three. He is
scoIched and burned, but seems to bear
a charmed life. The last he saves, to
his surprise, If not joy, is the young
singer. While she is borne away In
safety he faints and falls.
1t is two days before he comes to his
senses at his hotel. 1t would be weeks
before he got around. What mattercd
it? She came daily TO see and inquire
after his welfare.
All it was the old, old story, But
he did not tell 1t then and there. He
told the young singer story of diff
ferent kind Of lovely little cottage
among the pine woods of Surrey, of
an old man who was dying of sorrow
because his daughter would never
come again. And the girl bent her
head and sobbed and those tears told
Wilhelm all.
There was joy In that Surrey cottage
when Marie returned. With her came